


Dead Girl Walking

by AllumetteRouge (RedRaidingHood)



Series: Dead Like Them [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dead Like Me, Most relationships are post-/pre- ones, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:44:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3586773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRaidingHood/pseuds/AllumetteRouge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anyway, my name is Stephanie Brown and I've been dead for seven days.<br/>Right, let’s be a bit more accurate. I'm actually undead.<br/>A modern-day grim reaper who takes the souls of people about to die.<br/>One would think killing myself a week ago would’ve put an end to Mrs. Brown’s girl, and while that may be true, while Mrs. Brown’s girl is in fact dead, Stephanie Brown is still kicking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Dead Girl Walking](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4498173) by [Industrial_Lemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Industrial_Lemon/pseuds/Industrial_Lemon)



The lecture hall was silent. Not the silence filled with the strain of anxiousness or contempt or even justice, no. The room was filled with a certain kind of shocked silence that followed a student accidentally shooting herself while playing the part of district attorney in mock court. That particular student was the first to find words to describe what happened though.

»Well, shit.«

»At least you _did_ prove it possible to shoot yourself accidentally like that.«

She turned to the young boy who’d addressed her. He was small, ten or twelve years maybe, blue-eyed and black-haired and making her want to kick him just by the smug look on his face.

That’s when the hall came out of its shock, the people starting to scream and run outside.

Stephanie Brown, age 22, college student with a dream to become the best lawyer in the state and avid Gotham Knights fan had died that day in mock court. And right now, while the professor ran towards her corpse, her best friend Jenny in tow, she watched it happen from a place in the audience, next to a small boy who seemed oddly comfortable with the whole thing.

»Did I just die?« Steph asked him, not taking her eyes of the scene in front of them.

»Are you dumb?« The boy rolled his eyes. »No, you’re actually just having an out-of-body experience and you’ll snap back in three, two, one. Oh, shit. Didn’t happen. Well, what a shame.« He stood up, not waiting for her to follow.

»You can’t be an angel, so I’m going to hell, right? Being greeted by some tiny asshole already counts as punishment, right?«

The string of people storming outside was thinning, the two of them being the last ones with exception of the professor, Steph’s friend, and a whole lot of students who were either too shocked to move, or still slept through the commotion.

As much as she’d loved to watch their reactions, Stephanie Brown wasn’t a girl paralysed by fear, no. Mrs. Brown’s girl wouldn’t let the only person who actually seemed to understand what just happened slip away. That boy had information Steph hadn’t, so she didn’t even stop to think before following him out of the building.

»What the fuck, twerp? That gun wasn’t supposed to be loaded. Why does Prof. Kingsley have a loaded gun? Why does he make us play-act with a loaded gun?«

»Maybe he hoped you’d finally shut up?«

»At least _try_ to be nice, Damian.«

The boy huffed but stopped next to the man who’d just spoken. A man with a toothy grin and a burgundy purse. He looked a lot like a bigger, more friendly version of the boy - Damian - only he was holding a burgundy _purse._ Steph looked at him, stared actually. He was good-looking, too old for her, ten years older or something, but what made her stare, wasn’t the man himself, rather than a simple fact sinking in, making her mad. She’d just died. She couldn’t die. This wasn’t fair, she hadn’t graduated yet, she hadn’t kicked Stephen in the crotch, she hadn’t strangled the professor for making them play court with a loaded gun, she hadn’t... she wouldn’t come back home to her mom now, would she?

Clenching her fists, she looked the other two over again. Even with students running and screaming and the ambulance arriving with flashing lights, they looked comfortable. »Oh, fuck you,« Steph grit out forcefully. »I can’t be dead. Take someone else, you bastards!« And with that, she turned to run, to leave those stupid assholes behind. She needed to see her mom.

Kicking her legs against the ground as hard as she could, she almost fell flat on her face when the man held her back by the arm. She stumbled, but he held her up, even when she went to her knees, shaking. »This can’t. I can’t. I’m not dead.« Her whole body was shaking, shaking and shaking and she closed her eyes, pressing her hands to her face. She wouldn’t cry. Just wouldn’t.

»Hey,« the man still holding onto her arm said softly. »How about we go get something to drink, calm down, and then we’ll tell you all you want to know?«

 

They drove in a police car. Dick - as the man with the purse introduced himself - was a cop. And he was also dead. Just like Steph. So was Damian who was sitting in the back, looking like he hated every minute of the ride. And every minute of the ride, Steph felt more and more like this was a dream, some elaborate prank that would be over sooner the more she played along. So she did. Biting down the cold feeling in her gut, the doubt gnawing at her every thought.

So, alright. She was dead. Dick was dead. Damian was dead. And the burgundy purse belonged to the woman who had asked for her name before class. The woman who had _reaped_ her soul just before Stephanie Brown took on the role of attorney in one of the mock courts Prof. Kingsley liked to make his class do. Just before Stephanie Brown had shot herself with her Professor’s gun.

A drink sounded real good right now. As did the greasy burgers Round Robin was famous for.

They sat down in a booth at the diner, neither of the others reaching for the menu, but Dick shoved it over to Steph, smiling at her encouragingly. »Get yourself whatever you want. First meal’s on the group.«

»The ‘group’?« Steph took the menu and raised an eyebrow. This was getting weirder and weirder, but hey, elaborate pranks were always a little weird in her experience.

»Yeah,« Dick nodded. »There’s Damian and me of course, and that guy behind me?« He pointed his thumb over his shoulder to a man in the next booth, who had been reading when they came in. He would’ve easily been able to listen, but still didn’t react. »That’s Jason. Our resident Bad Boy.«

Damian snorted. »Resident loser more like it.«

»Fuck off, twerp.« Jason didn’t even look up from his book, when Dick shook his head and laughed at them.

»Jason’s just a big grump,« he confided. »But not as big as Bruce, our boss--«

»--You guys take the souls of people and you have a boss? Who’s he? Satan?« Laugher was bubbling up inside her. This prank not only got weirder, but also more and more surreal.

»He’s my father,« Damian stated, unamused.

»Your father. Right,« she drawled, setting the menu down and smiling at the waitress coming for their table.

»What can I do for you, dear?«  
»Just bring me the most expensive dish on the menu,« Steph grinned. »The guys are paying. Oh, and a blueberry milkshake, please.«

The waitress gave Dick a pointed look, who only smiled back at her.

»Sure thing, sweetheart. Anything for you young men?«

Damian huffed out a laugh. »Only the check, please.«

They heard Jason chuckle from the next table, waving the waitress over. »I think I’ll need a drink, Delores.«

Still grinning from ear-to-ear, Steph looked over the menu again, trying to find out what she’d just ordered.

»You really are something.« Dick looked at her, not smiling, but not angry either. Steph took that for a win. If those guys found it funny to make a joke out of her death, than she’d make sure the joke was as expensive as it could get.

»So you were saying there’s this group-thingy I’m now part of? Yeah, thanks for the food, but I don’t think I’ll be joining your Scientology rip-off.«

»That’s not debatable.«

»Excuse me?«

Dick’s eyes were hard, not blinking, just holding her gaze until Steph looked away. She rubbed her eyes. It was getting enough. She’d get her food and then she’d be out of here. Go back to her mom. She wasn’t dead.

Dick looked up suddenly, waving across the diner at a newcomer. His smile was back and whoever it was that made the man this happy, Steph almost envied them. Her mom smiled at her like this too. »Hey, look at that,« Dick nudged her hand on the table. »That’s the last of our illustrious band of merry reapers. That’s my little brother--«

»--Tim?« Steph’s voice stuck in her throat, the boy who’d approached their table stopping dead in his tracks, his face falling.

»You know each other?« Dick’s eyes shifted between them warily, his cheer gone.

Tim couldn’t be older than sixteen, couldn’t be. Sixteen, the age he’d been when he’d died; the age he’d always be for Steph, had always been when she’d thought of him the last years. He had died four years ago, had left Steph alone to deal with his stupid, selfish death.

»You. You _asshole_.« She jumped up from her seat, screaming. »How dare you! It’s enough. I’ve had it with you guys! You think that’s funny? You think it’s funny telling me I’m dead?« She shoved Tim back. »And you! Tim’s _dead_. You know what that means? My boyfriend _died_ and you have no right at all to look like him. You have no right to suddenly appear here as if nothing happened, you’ve fucking died, Tim!«

»Steph,« he started.

»You stupid, selfish prick! I’ve been to your funeral. I visit you fucking _grave_ , Tim!«

He grabbed her arms, looking her in the eyes with that gaze that just told her he was angry with her. They’d been angry at each other a lot at the end, which hadn’t made his death any easier on her.

»I’m sorry, Steph.«  
»You’re sorry!?«

»I’m sorry you died. I’m sorry you couldn’t live longer. Now will you calm down?«

»Wow, real sensitive, baby bird,« Jason said, leaving money at his table and effectively interrupting their newest fight. »As fun as this is, I’ve got a job to do. Try not to get us banned, I like this place.«

Steph moved away when the man left, falling back into her seat like a deflated balloon, ignoring the glances the other customers gave them.

»I’m dead,« she said, staring at nothing.

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes and sighed before sitting down next to her and giving his ‘big brother’ a glare. »I take it she’s Babs’ last reap?«

Dick nodded silently, fumbling with a napkin.

»Damn.«

»Yeah, damn.« The two shared another look, but Steph could’ve cared less. She was dead. This wasn’t a prank, this wasn’t meant to be some mean joke, she was dead. Her dead boyfriend sitting next to her in this shitty diner across from a dead cop and a dead kid who was immensely enjoying her frustration.

»So, you get it now, dead girl?« He asked, showing teeth. It looked more like an animal raising its hackles than an actual, human smile, but Steph took it.

»I’m dead,« she repeated, still not addressing either of them.

»Yes, you are.« Dick cast her a worried look, nodding to the waitress coming back to their table with an enormous platter of burger and fries and dips in every variety. »Thanks, Delores. Can I get the check?«

»Sure thing, darling.«

Steph looked at the platter Delores had sat down in front of her. Maybe if she ate it all and died by overeating, she was double-dead and everyone knew how that goes, double negative making stuff positive and all that loony math-stuff she’d never cared for in high school. When Tim and her had been an item. And now the asshole just sat next to her, eyeing her as if he’d warn her to play along if Delores wouldn’t have heard it. That arrogant bastard.

»So, where’re you staying?« Damian kept grinning in his own special way. Dick still handled the check next to him, but apparently, the boy couldn’t read Tim’s aggravating ‘don’t be stupid, stupid’-looks as good as Steph could.

»Boyfriend trouble?« Delores asked her with genuine concern.

»Something like that,« she answered the waitress, not caring for Tim rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, practically emanating annoyance next to her.

»It’s cool,« Dick intercepted quickly. »I’ve got a place for the interim.«

»You’re a real treasure,« Delores winked at him, then nodded at Steph. »Want a cake, dear? On the house.«

»Thanks, but I think I won’t even be able to finish this monster in front of me.«

»Just let me know,« Delores smiled. A real, nice smile from a stranger Steph had just met. The first real smile from a living person since she’d died. The sinking feeling in her stomach made her think she really wouldn’t be able to eat anything any time soon.

Tim clucked his tongue to get Dick’s attention when the waitress had left. »Babs’ place?«

»Yeah. Think she’d want her to have it.«

»She promised me.«

Dick ignored the irritation in Tim’s voice as good as Steph ignored Tim’s presence. »I don’t think Stephanie here cares much for the stuff you’re thinking about, Timmers.« He smiled again, rapping his knuckles on the table. »So, how about it, Stephanie? Wanna go have a look after you finish your meal? I can give you a ride. Wanted to get there later anyway.«

She felt nauseous, shoving the plate towards Damian across from her. »You eat it,« she told him. »Little kid like you needs all he can get to become big and strong and all that bullshit.« Damian only raised an eyebrow.

»Stephanie?« Dick asked.

»Call me ‘Steph’.« Sighing, she looked at the man whose worry was plain to see. »Guess... guess I can’t see my mom, can I? I really wanna go home. Have this nerd here have the place or whatever.«

»Steph... You can’t. You can’t go home, okay? You don’t wanna eat?«

»No thanks.« She kicked Tim under the table, standing up and hoping he’d get the message to move his ass, before she shoved him off the couch. He did. It wasn’t the first time they’d sat next to each other like this.

Dick rose from his seat with her, placing a hand on her shoulder when they walked outside without giving the others another look.

»I know,« he said. »I know how it feels like.«

»The fuck you do.«

»Steph, I’m dead. I’ve died years ago and I’ve lost family even before that. But you can’t go back.«

Defiance always was her go-to emotion when she actually wanted to cry and scream at the world for being unfair, so she spat at the one man who had tried to help her, explain this mess to her. »Why? Why the fuck can’t I? Who are you to decide what I can and can’t do! You’re just some sad sob who thinks he has all the answers because he’s ‘died years ago’. You know nothing. My mom will understand. She’ll help me, and tomorrow, I’ll wake up and go to class and everything--«

»--It won’t,« Dick’s harsh voice interrupted her. He sounded more exhausted than angry though. »Just believe me for now. We can discuss this some other time, I promise, just not now. We’re not talking about our loved ones right now and we’re not talking about wanting to see them right now, and we won’t see them any more. Can’t. Not a snowball’s chance in hell and we deal with that, alright? That’s what we do. Now be sensible and get in the car.«

Babs’ place was a beautiful loft with floor-to-ceiling windows and filled with the constant hum of computers. Its former occupant hadn’t been the most neat housekeeper, but between the dust, the thrown-on-the-floor clothes and the old coffee mugs, there was nothing nasty or especially messy. It was just the normal, everyday chaos a good life made. And Steph felt out of place at once. This wasn’t her home, wasn’t her bed, her windows, her computer. This was the place of the woman with the burgundy purse who had asked for Steph’s name before class. Before she’d shot herself accidentally.

»So what do you say? Nice place, isn’t it?« Dick interrupted her thoughts. He was picking up clothes, setting the mugs in the sink of the open kitchenette and tidied up just a little. It was obvious he’d been here often, knew where everything went.

»Yeah,« she conceded. »Yeah, it’s nice, I guess.« The computer towers blinked at her, purring like big, blocky hummingbirds. Steph had a laptop at home. A purple one she’d decorated with Gravity Falls stickers and glitter. But even though being almost computer illiterate, she realized quite what kind of geek this woman had been. She was actually a little impressed by this Babs. Her home was beautiful and still smelled of her, still told everyone who came inside who it belonged to, who this great woman that drank coffee in front of a screen, forgetting about it halfway and eventually got up to get a new mug without taking the old one back to the kitchen, had been.

»Don’t get cosy with all that next-gen tech. You’ve heard Tim. It’s his, and seriously, I have no idea what those thing’s are supposed to be anyway, so I wouldn’t touch anything if I were you.«

»Neither do I,« she laughed, glad Dick would make this easy for her. »So I can have whatever freakboy doesn’t want?«

»Nah,« Dick shook his head smiling and flopping down in the swivel chair in front of the computers Steph stood next to. »I’m going to take a bunch of stuff too.«

Humming, Steph gave him a teasing look. »So ‘Babs’ and you.« She made actual airquotes. »You two were close?«

Dick smiled sadly swivelling in his chair and running his fingers over the worn leather of its armrests. »We’ve been together for a few decades now.«

Steph felt immediately like an ass for being so casual about it. »I’m sorry.«

»It’s okay. We’re all dead already, you know. After a bit, you’ll get accustomed to surviving your loved-ones.« He sounded tired, just like he had before in front of the diner.

Steph didn’t like the sound of his voice like that. It was like it was meant for something more cheerful, a voice that was made for laughter and teasing and everything nice and warm that reminded Steph of her mom. The mom who’d survived her. Who would be told her daughter accidentally shot herself today in class. And maybe, maybe she’d get accustomed to Steph’s death after a while. Just like Dick told her would happen.

»Do you? Get accustomed to losing people?«

»...No,« he said after a while, not meeting her eyes. They were silent, both trapped in their own loss and grief.

Steph couldn’t shake the feeling even when she lay in bed later. In the bed Dick and Babs had probably shared. Not hers.

All of them were dead and it was unfair. It was uncomfortable, the bed too soft, too warm, too filled with loving memories that weren’t hers.

She’d died and was still alive somehow, _Tim_ was still alive somehow, and she was lying in a dead woman’s bed in the dead woman’s place after the dead woman’s also dead-but-somehow-still-alive boyfriend had brought her here. It was just too much. She wanted her mom and she wanted to sleep, but she couldn’t have either. Crying, Steph eventually succumbed to sleep from exhaustion early the next morning.


	2. Yellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> »Will you watch that?«  
> »Watch what? I’m only stating the fucking truth here, dumbfuck.«  
> »Your fudging language, Miss. There’s children listening.«  
> »Oh, that’s hilarious. Did you just say ‘fudging’?«

Crying always exhausted her more than anything, sleep afterwards being more akin to coma than actual sleep. Steph’s mom still never had had problems waking her with wonderful smelling waffles and kind, warm words. Steph missed her mom already, but she also missed an alarm clock this morning. Dick told her to meet them at Round Robin the next day around nine, but he hadn’t told her to set the alarm Babs had next to her big, warm, soft bed, so of course, Stephanie Brown forgot and woke up way too late to wonder why the green froggie holding a clock watched her with this disgust in his plastic face instead of waking her.

Cursing, Steph set her feet on the wooden floor, throwing the blankets of her. She raced to the bathroom, ignoring her puffy eyes and washed her face hastily. Not daring to think about yesterday in fear of stopping her morning routine, and also due to not actually having her own toiletries with her, this morning routine didn’t take long. She felt dirty, but not dirty enough to use a dead woman’s stuff more than she’d already had.

Suppressing the urge to puke and shuddering, it still came back to her. Everything that had happened only a few hours ago. She’d went to class like every day, she’d had fun play-acting the lawyer in mock-court as always and then, Prof. Kingsley’s gun had discharged right against her temple. And she’d died. She’d died and met Damian and Dick and Jason and _Tim_. She’d slept in Dick’s late girlfriend’s bed and she really only wanted to see her mom. Wanted her mother to wrap her in the old blanket she’d had since she was a toddler and rock her in her arms.

Steph sat down heavily on the toilet seat, burying her face in her hands. The breathing exercises came easy, having been an almost natural response to hurt for her ever since she’d gone to those pregnancy classes. They helped until she remembered the classes. Until she remembered she’d gone there with Tim. Until she remembered the child. Then she cried. Ugly, snotty, loud crying. Crying for the child, for Tim, for her mom and herself. She sank to the floor, hugging herself and sobbing as much as she could pressing her face to the cold tiles. Never in her life has she felt this miserable, never this alone.

She only wanted her mom back. Only her mom, that would be enough. She didn’t need her child nor the boyfriend she’d lost years ago; she only needed the woman who’d been there for her through all of this.

Steph snuffled loudly, wiping her eyes and nose with the sleeve of her shirt. The shirt she’d died in. No. Mrs. Brown’s girl wouldn’t fall to pieces like that. Mrs. Brown’s girl was tougher than this. Mrs. Brown’s girl would pick herself up from this stupid bathroom floor, get some of the dead woman’s clothes neither of the boys would have any use for and get to this crummy diner to demand answers. And _then,_ Mrs. Brown’s girl would pay Mrs. Brown a visit. Tell her she’s okay and tell her everything’s alright, just as the woman had always done for her daughter.

Being the go-getter she was, Steph stood to rummage through Babs’ closet to - again - be impressed by this lady. She really started to regret not being able to meet her and took out an expensive looking blouse and the most stylish jeans Steph had ever put on in her life - or after-life or whatever. A black leather jacket waited for her in the back of the closet too, but she couldn’t wear the shoes, which kind of made her a little mad. Babs had some gorgeous clothes and great - although admittedly more grown-up - taste.

Next thing Steph took care of were her means of transportation. Dick had driven her last night, so she wouldn’t be able to just walk which meant she needed to get a ride. Not knowing any of those reaper-guys’ numbers, she took Babs’ phone and called a taxi, got out of the place, hoping Dick still had the key he’d used and told the driver to take her to Round Robin.

It did feel good being in control of things again. She had a plan and it went smoothly, her life still being hers. Sure, the backseat of the taxi was much too soft and worn from thousands of asses, and she really didn’t want to think about how many men had farted into the upholstery, but it still felt good.

»Alright, Miss,« the taxidriver - his license said his name was Brian Brubaker - looked at her through the rear-view mirror when he stopped at a red light. »Your diner’s coming up, just a block down. Having a date?«

Steph actually surprised herself by laughing. »No, nothing pleasant like that.«

»Shame,« Brian Brubaker smiled at her. He had a nice smile, straight white teeth and really, really nice lips. He was Steph’s type, so she really couldn’t be blamed for not looking out to see the diner, instead watching Brian drive and come to a halt. He turned in his seat and Steph felt herself lean forward, closer to him. »So, you single?« He asked.

»Maybe.« Her heart was beating in her chest, in her ears, pumping blood through her body. »Depends on who’s asking.«

Brian flushed and leaned his head on the passenger seat. »I am.«

She felt it. Felt herself wanting to say yes, wanting Brian to actually take her somewhere else, somewhere... wherever he wanted to go actually. He was cute and nice and really cute actually, short-cropped hair and angular face and yeah. The whole package. Steph felt herself blush in return, nodding slightly, when someone broke the spell by rapping on Brian’s window.

»Dude, you’re blocking the street.«

»Chill, will ya?« Brian shot back, making Steph smile at the anger in his voice. He’d felt it too, and that was always a good sign in Stephs book.

The other lay a hand on Brian’s shoulder, repeating his words carefully, and most obnoxiously, louder. »You are blocking the road.«

»There’s another lane. Go fuck yourself, mate.« Shoving the hand off his shoulder, Brian flipped the man off and closed his window, but before he could turn back to Steph, her door was ripped open, the guy outside addressing her. »And you. Get out. Now.«

It was Tim. Of course it had to be Tim. Tiny Tim with his sixteen years and stupid lanky body he would never grow into.

»No, fuck you.« Steph growled. »I haven’t even paid him!«

Tim grabbed her arm and pulled. »Come on. You have to get out. Mr. Brubaker here has an appointment he can’t miss.«

»I haven’t paid him.« She stubbornly refused to budge.

Brian was about to open the door, looking like he’d give Tim a beating or at least scream at him, and Steph had seen that happen often enough. She sighed and shook off Tim’s hand. »Sorry, Brian. Next time I call for a taxi, I’ll ask for you, promise.«

»This dude harassing you?« He asked worried. Brian really was a sweet guy. He was fidgeting, obviously wanting to get out of his seat and help her, but then again, Tim was a little scarecrow who looked like he’d fall over every time the wind took up. »It’s okay, he’s my ex.«

The driver raised an eyebrow, reaching into the vest he was wearing, pulling out a small note pad and scribbling down a few numbers. Internally, Steph cheered. Getting a number in front of the ex who’d just hurt her after four years again was pretty chill after all.

»Right, like, call me?«

Steph took the number with a big smile on her face. »Maybe.«

Brian smiled back. »Depending on?«

»What this ride’ll cost me.«

Brian’s laugh was wonderful. A real contagious laugh that made her heart beat even faster and her body grow warm. »Forget it, nothing for the gorgeous girl in the back. Just call me, okay?«

Smiling, Steph got out of the car, ignoring Tim and waving at Brian. »I will. Take care and drive safely, Brian.«

»I will.« He winked and set his blinker before threading back into the steady line of cars.

Steph watched the taxi go to the next red light and then turned to Tim. »You realize just because you’re still alive doesn’t mean I haven’t moved on, have you? I’m over you. I’m so over you, and you should get that into you little teenage-hormone-ridden head, ex-boyfriend.« She’d always known how to hurt Tim and this, this obvious rejection hurt. A lot. At the time he’d told her about his fear, she’d promised herself to not let him feel this kind of hurt from her, to cherish his trust. But now, she was angry, she’d been hurt herself and Tim? Hadn’t even stopped to explain anything, hadn’t even had a kind word for her, so screw him. He was being an ass and he had it coming.

Tim blinked. Just stood there blinking before closing his eyes and steadying himself. He pushed his hands in his pockets and cocked his head before looking back up at her. »Just let me do my job,« he said coldly, the sound of a car horn eating his words right up. Then came the crash. The screams and the screeching of tires that made Steph turn on her heel, mouth and eyes open in shock and just in time to see the yellow car she’d just been in upturned and smashed against a building by a Coke truck.

Tim left her standing, his hand now on Brian’s shoulder as the two men went into the opposite direction.

»What just happened?« Brian asked confused.

»You died. Cutting a red light and thinking too much about nice girls, I’d presume.«

The street began to glow as they went on, turning more and more into a beach with golden waves and a beautiful sunset. Steph didn’t hear them talking, couldn’t decide where to look, the car-wreck on one side, or the beach made out of light on the other until Brian dissolved into bright sparkles himself, leaving only Tim in the ethereal light, his own brilliance reflected in the teasing eyes he cast her. Years ago, she’d fallen in love with this boy, and even now that she didn’t feel for him like that any more, she remembered why she had.

»Let’s get inside,« he finally said when the brightness dimmed and the street turned back to the chaos it had become after the crash at the crossing. »B is already waiting.«

Steph followed him, bumping their shoulders. »B?«

She’d always loved the way Tim had to look up at her, and she positively relished in being even taller now. »Bruce,« he answered.

»The guy who made you kill Brian?«

Shaking his head, Tim held the door open for her. »I didn’t kill your boyfriend, Steph.«

»Brian wasn’t my boyfriend.«  
He conceded, nodding when she went inside the diner. »Yet.«

Dick and Damian were already sitting in the booth they’d occupied yesterday, but the table behind them was empty. Another man was there though, not Jason, but an older guy, broad-shouldered and serious, looking at Steph appraisingly. »How come I’m kind of okay with a person dying?«

This time it was Tim bumping their shoulders together. »Hysteria I’d wager. You’ll scream soon enough again, don’t worry.«

Watching Dick smile when he saw Tim reminded Steph that this was a group she was new to. She might’ve known Tim well enough, but even friendly Dick was more of a question than an answer to her. And she intended to get answers and apparently, everything started with this man, sitting where she had sat yesterday.

Nodding to herself, Steph tightened her resolve and flopped down next to Bruce, surprising the men with her presence and a big smile. »Hi, I’m Steph. You’re Bruce?« The man resembled Damian a lot, reminding Steph that the boy had already told her of their relation. »Dami told me you’re his pop, and I’ve also been told you’re the one giving the orders?«

Bruce blinked at her, but got his composure back way too fast for her liking, so she kept on talking, not letting anyone in between her and her answers. »So, for starters: I haven’t signed up for this shit, I won’t take orders from anyone and I’m going to do whatever I want starting now.«

If Damian showing his teeth in a mock smile looked dangerous, Bruce could get the same effect by not even moving. Steph felt her resolve waver under his gaze as the man only exhaled slowly.

The stool scrapped against the floor when Tim pulled it over and sat on the table’s end. Steph couldn’t see his face, what with the staring contest she and Bruce had going on, but whatever the boy was thinking, she was definitely the butt of his joke.

»Everybody dies,« Bruce finally said, his voice deep and dark and strangely attractive. »I’m not making the rules.«

That obviously was it; he didn’t deem her worthy of more than that. Taking out a notebook from the coat he’d hung over the bench, Bruce turned to the other men at the table.

»Jason’s late,« Tim quipped, not helping Steph and apparently not interested in getting Bruce to talk either.

»Fuck off, baby bird,« the other man said, slumping into the booth behind Steph and Bruce. »Be glad I even get here in my break.«

»You could just not take lessons around nine,« Tim argued, minding not to look at Steph when he glared at Jason behind her.

»Or--«

»--Or we could move on and just be nice to each other for one day?« Dick interrupted them both, exchanging a look with Bruce; all of them ignoring Steph again.

She bit her cheek, crossing her legs and counted to ten. Breathing exercise was a blessing when working with men. »Right. Thanks for nothing,« she hissed, addressing them all, but only giving Tim a glance. »I’ve said what I wanted to say. You can either give me a response or watch me go in ten, nine,...« she started to count down, catching Damian’s smile out of the corner of her eye.

Tim whined when his big brother nudged him. He’d obviously been voted spokesman for the day. »B already said his stuff, Steph. Everybody dies. We all had to.«  
»Why?«

»I...«

»Why, Tim? Why did you have to die?«

»Because... Wrong time, wrong place?« It was almost funny to hear the questionmark at the end of his answer. But it wasn’t enough, anger was slowly taking hold of Steph again. »Why did Brian have to die then? He didn’t _do_ anything bad! Hell, I didn’t do anything bad! What’s the big plan, why did Brian get those lights, why didn’t I? Why can’t I go see my mom?«

Tim stammered, alternating between looking at Dick and Bruce for help.

»Look,« Dick sighed, always trying to be the one who’d help his little brother out when he could. »That’s just the way it is, okay? People die every day, good people, bad people, people in-between. Mothers and fathers and everyone. That’s life.«

»So there’s no rhyme or reason to any of this?«

»That’s not what I said,« now Dick seemed to whine, resulting in a deep, gravely chuckle in Steph’s ear. Jason had turned, sitting on his knees and resting head on his arms between Steph and Bruce. He sat up when Bruce glanced at him, turning serious. The older man looked back at his notebook, revealing a bunch of yellow post-its he was separating and shoving at the other men. »Just do your job.« And that - Bruce seemed to be accustomed to - closed the discussion.

Steph grit her teeth. This man really was getting on her nerves. He didn’t even talk for himself, letting Tim and Dick stumble over their words while sorting his stupid little post-its and telling everyone what to do. What an ass.

»12:31? You know I’ve got class, boss.«

»It’s _your_ job, Jason,« Bruce replied without turning back.

»Why doesn’t the new girl get one? Let her do this one. I can’t. Not at fucking twelve thirty-freaking-one!«

Tim tapped Steph’s hand, motioning for her to stand up and let Bruce go. For one moment, she thought about staying put, but the man was big and didn’t care for anything. He’d probably just waltz over her if she didn’t move.

»You’ll find a way,« he told Jason who was still glaring. »And take her with you.«

Jason actually leaned back, blinking at Bruce while Steph and him both opened their mouths at the same time. »What? Why?«

Bruce was really irritating her. Like herpes. She moved to run after him, when he just told them »Because it’s your job.« and went to leave. A hand on her shoulder stopped her though and she saw Jason watch him go and grit his teeth. »Fuck you,« he mouthed before turning to face her. »Twelve hundred sharp, on top of the Perez-building. Be there.« He tapped her shoulder and got out of the booth, following after Bruce.

»I hate this.«

»Being tossed around and not told anything at all?« Tim guessed, taking a bag Dick produced from the bundle between him and Damian. He was getting ready to leave, too.

»Pretty much.«

»You’ll get used to it.«

»Don’t want to.«

Tim had always been sharp and Steph knew for a fact her ex was one of the most curious persons on this planet. She couldn’t for the life of her think of him just being able to accept these non-answers, that’s why his answer didn’t really surprise her. »Then don’t,« he said, his smile sardonic. He’d been dead for four years now and somehow Steph got the vibe he’d asked himself the very same questions when he’d been new to this whole stick. »Take it from me. There are answers. There have to be. Doesn’t mean any of us has them yet.«

 

The Perez-building was a big tower which Robert Perez had built to accommodate his company along with a small kindergarten for the employees. Steph actually liked people who thought like that. It was nice giving parents and children the chance to be close the whole day, being able to have lunch together at the playground on top, and while she enjoyed watching the families eat and talk together, Jason didn’t seem to share her enthusiasm. »Fucking kids,« he’d growled when the elevator doors had revealed the sight to them. Children running around, playing ball, some childless employees sitting together at the banister, playing cards, and all around families, enjoying their break together. Steph smiled, wanting to join them, but Jason was being Mr. Grumpy-pants himself and she didn’t want him to scare the kids just yet. »So what now,« she asked instead, trying to bump their shoulders, but Jason moved away, looking at her almost scandalized.

»A. Griffin,« he answered and left her were she was, as if ‘A. Griffin’ was an acceptable answer. Steph rolled her eyes. While she didn’t like it, following men seemed to become a pattern for her and she hated every second of it. She was dead for fuck’s sake! Shouldn’t she be able to do whatever? It wasn’t like it could get any worse. »What’s at 12:31?«

Jason moved fast and she had no real intention to follow him, so when he didn’t deem it polite enough to at least indicate he’d heard her, she just talked louder. A lot louder. »You’re really starting piss me off, man. You’re being an asshat on purpose and you know it.«

She ignored the angry looks the parents around gave her; some even covering their children’s ears or turning them away from the screaming girl.

Jason turned on his heel, his eyes wide and his face pale. All of those black-haired, blue-eyed, _male_ dead guys made something in Steph _want_ to hurt them. And that part in her relished in the look Jason gave her right now, on top of the Perez-building in the middle of this crowd of parents and children. He was back at her side in a few quick strides, hissing at her and looking around almost paranoid. »Will you watch that?«

»Watch what?« She chuckled. Jason really was fun to tease. »I’m only stating the fucking truth here, dumbfuck.«

»Your fudging language, Miss,« he growled, his intense gaze resting on her. »There’s children listening.«

»Oh, that’s hilarious. Did you just say ‘fudging’?«

»You like being a bad influence on purpose?«

»You like being an asshole on purpose?« Steph knew she was being childish, knew challenging Jason wouldn’t get her the answers she wanted, but it still felt nice having at least some kind of power over those guys.

Jason closed his eyes and Steph actually recognized the breathing exercise. He was controlling his anger, stuffing it down where it wouldn’t come out any time soon. »A. Griffin,« he repeated, still not looking at her. »Find that person.«

»A. Griffin?« The name didn’t ring any bells. »Is that a mom? Or a pop? You’re not looking for one of the children, are you?« Steph looked around them. None of the people seemed to scream ‘A. Griffin’ to her.

»Dunno.«

»What?«

Jason turned, but didn’t move away. »I don’t know. Just A. Griffin.« He looked at her form the corner of his eye. »A. Griffin. Need to find them before 12:31, turtledove. Get moving.« And with that, he let her stand where she was again.

»Alright.« Cocking her head to the side, Steph resolved to talking to herself. »At least I got something to do for now. Finding A. Griffin in--« she looked at the clock on the building wall. »--seven minutes. Can’t be that hard, can it?«

The families who’d heard her outburst apparently weren’t a good place to start, still giving her suspicious glances now and then. So the kids it was. She went over to a group in the far corner, talking avidly by the banister. They weren’t that young any more, which suited Steph just fine. She wanted answers, and they’d probably knew more than the little ones. »Hey there,« she said, approaching the group.

»Do you need soap?« One of the boys asked her at once. Apparently, her outburst had been heard all over the roof. Great. Just great.

»Ah,« she laughed to cover up the actual guilt she felt. Spurting swear words in front of kids really wasn’t her usual way of coping. »I guess so. Any of you know where I can find A. Griffin?«

»Is he giving you soap?« Perfect. Already the kid had given her the person’s sex.

»Yeah, sure. You know him?«

»Nah, but I can ask mom if you want?«

Another kid decided to chide in. »Tabby, your mom is so fat, the whole building’ll break if she jumps.«

And that was that. Children apparently still loved ‘your mom’ jokes and Steph wasn’t much wiser. Only thing she’d learned were that Tabby’s mom was fat, and Guilo’s mom was fat and yeah. Great. She looked around to see Jason walk along the other side of the roof, smoking and not talking to anyone. The bastard.

She was just about to call him something really bad, really loud again, when she thought better and stalked over in time to realize he was actually approaching a young woman who was wiping the face of a small, blonde girl with a napkin. Mom’s had that nasty habit, Steph remembered. Her mom had always made her spit in the napkin before using her saliva to wipe at her face. It’d been disgusting every time, but her mom had smiled at her, had been proud at her for holding still and smiled happily when Steph’d been clean again. It was just such a mom-thing to do. And Steph really missed her own. She’d probably already been told of Steph’s demise, had been told about the loaded gun, the accident. Later, she would go home. Tell her mom what had happened, hug her and tell her she’s okay. Fuck Jason and fuck Bruce.

Steph watched him laugh with the mom, softly touching her arm and nodding at a joke she’d told. She caught is gaze when he looked away suddenly, followed his eyes to where a small, ghastly looking creature lurked in a corner, hissing at Jason who in turn kept his poker-face, but left the woman to join Steph again. »See that?« he asked. The words were stuck in her throat, but Jason didn’t wait for an answer. »Fudging gravelings. Don’t move. Don’t do anything.«

What happened afterwards was a hazy mist Steph didn’t want to remember. The ape-like monstrosity swiftly climbed a man’s back, riding his shoulder for a moment while he lit his cigarette with a match. They moved past the mom Jason had just talked to, the man throwing the still burning match away. It would fall the the ground harmlessly, just loitering, nothing dangerous, but important enough for Jason’s fingers to wrap around her wrist. The monster - graveling, Jason had called it - moved. It caught the match, cackling at them and holding the flame to the mom’s light summer dress. It caught fire immediately, but no one but them seemed to notice.

Jason’s grip turned tight, his gaze hard on the graveling. Steph didn’t feel it, didn’t feel anything when the fire spread to her hair, the woman starting to scream in shock. She turned around, looking at them, screaming and burning. The little blonde girl Steph had seen with her earlier tugged at her sleeve. »Make momma stop screaming. Make her stop!«

Tearing her wrist from Jason’s hand, Steph spun around and ran, not looking back, not waiting for the woman to die, for Jason to do whatever, for any lights to show up or beaches and glowing waves. Steph ran, tears burning in her eyes and her chest constricting, taking all her breath. She wanted her mom, only her mom could make this right, could tell her this was all a bad dream. She wasn’t dead, hadn’t just watched a woman burn, had watched that disgusting _thing_ lit her dress.

She moved her feet. They hurt but moved, as did her lungs. Jason had known. He’d known what would happen and he’d just _let_ that _thing_ do it. Kill that woman. That mom. She’d been a mom. Just like her’s. Like Steph’s. Would Jason have done something if it’d been Steph’s mom? If it had been his?

Her legs kicked the ground hard, the sick feeling in her stomach making bile rise in her throat. She ignored it, ignored everything. She just needed her mom.

She forwent the elevator in favour of the stairs, each step still burning her legs as she exited the building. The landscape flying past her, people and cars blending in a single, colourless blur. Steph couldn’t stop running when her every breath hurt or when she wasn’t even able to tell exactly where she was running to any more. Or from. Or even the reason she ran. Only when she stopped, when she doubled over from exhaustion, puking into what she recognized as her neighbour Dorothy’s prized roses, she realized she’d reached her destination. Yesterday morning, Steph had left this house to attend class, to become a lawyer and support her beautiful, devoted mother. She hadn’t come back though. She’d put a bullet in her brain that now felt as scrambled as it must’ve looked in her autopsy.

A dead girl, coming home a whole day late. Sudden relief flooded her. She was home. Mom was here and everything would be alright again. Everything would work out. The drugs, the pregnancy, her Dad, it had never mattered, the two of them had always come through together, side by side. Steph and her mom.

Her steps carried Steph inside the apartment complex, the green walls familiar, the smell of cabbage a residue of old Mrs. Keller, who always invited the neighbours for hot-pot or casserole on Fridays, depending on what everyone had left over from the week. John Drews was soundly snoring, audibly through the thin walls and at the end of the floor Steph found herself on, was her home. The home she’d shared with her mother for almost seven years now.

Ringing the bell was familiar, the steps behind the door dragging like they always did when her mom had taken the night-shift at the hospital. It felt normal, good, standing here, in front of the apartment, waiting for her mom to let her in and a little spark inside her, had her heart in overdrive, her blood pumping in her ears, her breath coming in short, happy little busts. She was home. She was so glad she was home.

The chain behind the door clinked, the locks and door finally being opened and revealed the most wonderful woman Steph had ever known. Her eyes were dim and the dark circles spoke volumes of the battle she fought every day, the wrinkles deep and much too early for her age, and she was still the most beautiful for her daughter.

Steph could only do so much not to wrap her mother up in a bone-crushing hug. Instead, she balled her fists at her sides and jumped on her toes. »Hey mom,« she greeted with a big smile betraying her happiness. »I’m sorry I’m late.«

»Go away.« Her mother’s tone was like ice, cutting deep inside Steph’s chest. Her body reacting faster then she could think, she’d pushed her foot between the door and its frame before her mom could’ve locked her out again.

»Mom,« Steph whined, her empty stomach curling again.

»I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Miss, but you should go. Now.« Disgust and hurt was so prominent in her voice. Hands fumbling with the doorknob, trying to close the door with Steph’s foot still inside.

»Mom, it’s me! Steph! What are you doing?« Throwing her weight against the door, she got Mrs. Brown to stumble back, the door crashing against the wall, alerting all neighbours. She wouldn’t have been able to hear John Drews’ snoring anymore, the good man already stumbling awake, probably reaching for his gun, but all Steph could hear, was the blood rushing in her ears and her mother’s cries. »You’re not her! Why are you doing this, what did I ever do to you? Stephanie is dead! My daughter is dead and you don’t even look like her!«

Tears ran down freely over the wrinkled face of the mom she’d adored and who was currently terrified of her. Stepping inside the doorframe, her hands high to ease Mrs. Brown’s screaming, Steph finally caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

There was no need for John Drew to appease her, to help his neighbour who’d just lost her daughter. Neither was there any need for lovely Mrs. Keller to talk to the nice lady operator on the phone, calling the police. Her mother’s frightened, betrayed reaction made her run, but the one glimpse Steph got in the mirror made her own fear seize her heart. Confusion and terror made her aching body look for the one place she’d feel secure without having to stop and think. Just like yesterday, Steph left her home to head for Gotham University.


	3. Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> »Come on. Any more ice cream and you’re shopping in the maternity section.«

»Wow, you look like death warmed over. Twice.«

Grunting, Steph let herself fall into the seat next to Tim.

»Too early?« He asked, otherwise unperturbed by his morbid joke.

»Look who’s actually graced us with her presence.« Jason nearly headbutted Tim from the booth behind them when he craned his head back to snarl at her. »Not running out on us in ten, are you?«

»Fuck off.« She wasn’t in the mood to discuss anything with either of them. Having slept in the lecture hall had been one great, annoying adventure Steph could’ve done without. As did her neck. And her legs - although those were more screaming and cramping from running through practically half the city yesterday - but she didn’t want to think about that right now. She needed answers. And answers, Bruce had. So Jason and Tim could just fuck off and leave her alone; she had bigger fish to fry.

In her periphery, Steph managed to acknowledge Damian’s arrival, nodding at the little brat and even ordering breakfast from Delores, but the reflection that had looked back at her through her hallway mirror was on the forefront of her mind all the time. It had been the main character in all her dreams last night along with her parents. It wasn’t fair. None of this was, but the only one she could blame was Bruce. So she did. It was his fault. All his fault.

»Allright, now that we’re all here--« Dick started when he eventually sat down beside Damian.

»--B playing hooky _again_?« Tim almost sounded amused, the other reaper smiling back at him.

»I wouldn’t call it ‘playing hooky’.«

»Yeah, you’d just say he told you to do his job and you told him to do it himself, but it still ended with you giving in and doing B’s bidding.«

»Don’t sound so smug.«

»Stop this!« Steph’s hand hit the table hard. »I don’t have time for your stupid smack talk. Lets pretend we’re all big boys and out of kindergarten for once, alright? I have questions.«

Dick looked at her. She knew each of them was looking at her, but Dick gave her a look that made her want to punch a hole in a wall. Like he had any right to be _disappointed_.

Shoving Tim under the table made her anger manageable enough to stop gritting her teeth and open her mouth to finally form words again. »I went home.« Behind her, Jason hissed through his teeth. »I went home,« she continued, her eyes fixed on Dick. »My mom didn’t even recognize me. She thought I was playing a prank on her. A very cruel prank.«

»I’m sorry.«

»No,« It just wasn’t fair. »No, you’re not. You can’t. You’re not allowed to be sorry! You. All of you. What did you do to me?«

»I don’t--«

»--Why do I look like this?« Steph pointed to her face, the reapers going silent, watching her warily.

Tim cleared his throat, sounding like he was choosing his words carefully. »We told you, you can’t go home again.« He wasn’t. He should’ve known he was only feeding the fire inside Steph’s chest, but he kept going, watching her face intently. »None of us could.«

»Not that you _tried_.« The words were meant to hurt in return, to cut and to relief Steph of some of the pain Tim’d death had left in her heart.

His smile was sardonic when he leant back, exhaling audibly. »Who said I didn’t and you just couldn’t recognize me? Who said I’m not looking totally different to the living than to the dead?«

Steph’s mouth fell slack. She couldn’t believe he’d stoop so low.

»Cut the crap, will you? Just face it, you’re dead.« He crossed his arms over his chest, looking up at the ceiling.

Steph’s hand moved in time with her mouth, a silent scream leaving her lips and her fist connecting with Tim’s chest limply. Everything felt light, weightless, _hopeless_. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. She’d looked in that mirror and she’d seen a stranger - a blonde girl, but not Stephanie Brown. Blue eyes, but not hers. She leaned her head on Tim’s shoulder and sobbed. It wasn’t fair. She was dead and she was alive and she was Stephanie Brown and someone else at the same time.

»I’m Nick Adams,« Dick offered. »To the living at least. It’s like... Think secret identity? We’re immortal, we don’t age. I would be strange seeing someone run around who’d just died, wouldn’t it? So yeah, we look a little different to the living.«

Steph huffed. »’A little’.« Then she turned her head to look at Tim, who was still eyeing the ceiling. »I’m going to need some answers from you too, ex-boyfriend.«

»In time.«

She nodded, understanding that this all... It was a bit much. She had died, but hadn’t made it to the afterlife yet. Apparently, she was chosen to be a grim reaper like them, their job being to take the souls of living people right before they died for whatever reason. And to do that, they were allowed to exist in the world of the living, only not as themselves.

It wasn’t that she was okay with that, she hadn’t _signed_ anything, but right now, with two days in a row like this... she actually only wanted to sleep for a week.

Dick shoved a post-it over the table. »I guess you and Damian can do this one together, right?«

Damian rolled his eyes at her when Steph looked up incredulously. »I’m going to accompany the brat this time? I don’t need to be babysat. In fact, I was thinking of going to bed like right now, I don’t really have time to run after you guys today.«

»Tough,« Dick’s grin was anything but nice. »It’s your job, not his. You can sleep after you’ve reaped your soul.«

»Wait.« She sat up. »You want me to do what?«

»You’ve seen what Jason did yesterday, didn’t you?«

»Uh-huh.«

»So there, welcome to the team.«

 

The day turned out unexpectedly nice, the reap taking place at a beach, concrete steps leading down to beautiful white sand and the whole scene peaceful but lively. It was a great place for students, close to the campus, and a good place to hang out at all times. Steph loved it.

Damian shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to tuck his short, windswept hair behind his ears while he watched her jump on her feet in front of a street stand that sold the best ice cream in the whole city.

»So, how are we doing this? I’ll tell you who we’re looking for and then we just go ask around?« She asked and pushed a cone with strawberry ice-cream at him.

»Actually, I have my own reap, dead girl.«

Steph raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t seen Dick give the boy a post-it too, but then again, Damian was Bruce’s son, wasn’t he? He could’ve gotten his job already back at home or something.

Eating away at her chocolate-chip and cookie-dough ice-cream, Steph shrugged, the plastic spoon in her mouth. »So we exchange names and look for two people?«

Just like the first time she’d seen it, Damian’s smile reminded her more of a rabid dog than a ten-year old boy. »I’m not looking for a person per se.« He leant against the banister, looking down the concrete steps at the beach. »Todd didn’t tell you anything yesterday, did he?«

Huffing, Steph resigned herself to just being annoyed. It was obvious she wasn’t told _anything_ at all by those jerks, so no, Jason Todd had been a dick, taking a woman’s soul without telling Steph how he did it or why or anything really. She braced her arms on the banister, watching Damian take a bite out of his cone.

»I’m another division,« he finally said, eyes still observing the beach beneath them. »You die a kid, you stay a kid - and kids don’t do human death.«

The ice in her mouth felt warm and tasteless. How long was Damian dead again? How long was he ten years old? »So, what are the jobs for kids like?« She asked instead.

Damian shrugged, pointing to a family by the surf; a man and two small kids playing with a Frisbee and their dog, the mother taking pictures from a beach towel farther away. »This one maybe. Or one of them.« An old man feeding a bunch of seagulls. »More likely,« Damian grinned, stuffing the rest of his cone in his mouth and leaned back, looking behind them. »That one.«

»Animals?« Steph turned to follow his gaze to the hurdy gurdy man and his monkey.

Damian nodded. »Ten dollar says the monkey bites it.«

»You’re kidding me.«

»Nope. Last time it was a monkey, Cass from Natural Death lost twenty dollars and a pack of gum. What’s your bet?«

Laughing, Steph realized that Damian was a whole lot better at the team-up thing than Jason was, and it was likely he’d answer her questions. »You’re on.« She looked around. »Ten dollars and a favour says it’s the seagulls. And mine’s the old guy. They get all Hitchcockian on one another and blammo.«

»’Blammo’«

»Yes, blammo. Hey, don’t accidentally smile there, kid!« It was actually pretty fun hanging out with Damian. He could be an asshole, but he was also kind of chill and Steph could definitely do with a friend - even if that friend was ten. Had been ten for... years probably.

»So, what kind of favour are we talking?« The boy eyed her sceptically out of the corner of his eye.

»Getting Tim out of my place fast?«

Damian blinked at her, his mouth going slack. »I am not sure I want to ask for the context of this favour.«

»Why my ex should need to been thrown out of my place?« Steph’s cheeks started to hurt from smiling already. »It’s not what you think, you little gutter-mind!« She shoved the boy lightly. »Apparently the woman who I inherited the place from promised him some of her stuff? So yeah, he’s going to get his junk some time and I could really do without seeing his face any more than I have to.«

»Oh, I know how _that_ feels.«

»You don’t like Tim?«

Damian cringed, not meeting her eyes. He checked his watch before looking at her again with a frown on his face. »Let’s just say he’s comforting in a very annoying way. It’s about time, you should check for your reap, dead girl.«

»’Comforting’ isn’t bad, you know?«

»He reminds _you_ of being young, doesn’t he?«

Steph nodded. It was true. Most of her unease around Tim came from the memories they’d shared. They had known each other since she’d been fifteen, and Tim had been a big part of her life since then, but his death... it had broken up their relationship in the worst possible way, had ripped out an important part in her life and left her without any support other than her mother. Since then, she’d grown up, had become another person, someone who was living without Tim. Seeing him now, still sixteen, like she still was eighteen and didn’t know what to do with herself... it was unbalancing; uncomfortably reminding her of what she’d had, what she’d lost, the person she had been.

Damian could read her answer from her face, sighing sympathetically. »Same here.«

»He reminds you of your childhood?«

He snorted. »I do take comfort from the fact, that while my voice won’t ever crack, Drake’s won’t won’t ever stop.«

Steph smiled and shoved him again. »You’re an asshole.«

»Go find your reap, deadbeat.«

It was funny how accepting Damian was of her. It was funny, because it was obvious how hard he tried to be nice, how open he deliberately made himself and while Steph did not know his reasons, it still felt good. Really good to have someone to talk to at last.

Damian also turned out to be right. It was the monkey he’d had to reap, while Steph moved just in time to touch the ice-cream seller when a bunch of drunk kids came along, shoving Damian and other people aside to harass the hurdy gurdy man. Any other day, Steph would’ve loved to have a Talk with them - capital ‘T’ - but at the moment, she was flirting with A. Arnold - the ice-cream seller who did indeed bear the name of Arnold Arnold Junior - and getting some more ice-cream for them. She had the name, the right place, and as a quick look from Damian confirmed, it was also the right time. Awkwardly, she raised her hand to stroke Arnold’s arm, not really knowing what to expect. It wasn’t as odd a feeling as she had thought when she’d seen Jason do it, had seen the white shimmer under his hand and hear the soft, surging sound. After that, it was a matter of seconds, one of the drunken kids crying out, flinging his arm where the monkey held stubbornly on with his sharp little teeth. The tiny creature went flying, straight past Steph’s head and into Arnold’s face, who stumbled back, one step, two, and that’s when Steph saw the graveling, cackling at her when it tripped the man up. He fell, the monkey still on his face, down the concrete steps, landing on his face with a sick cracking sound and burying the monkey under him.

»Come on,« Damian took her arm. »Any more ice cream and you’re shopping in the maternity section.«

 

The next days practically flew by, snarking at everyone and anything with Damian, eating at Round Robin with the rest of the money she’d had in her wallet and a reap every day. It was easier than Steph had first thought, her mind much too occupied with managing the new situation than asking questions or arguing with Bruce. It wasn’t even until the seventh day after she accidentally shot herself, that Steph remembered the circumstances that had brought her here. They came in the form of Jason’s bike in front of her apartment building and his stupidly attractive ass on her couch one late-afternoon.

»My what?«

»Your reception. You wanna go or what?«

Steph sat her beer down. »W-Why would I want to go there? No one would know me anyway, right?«

Jason shrugged nonchalantly, taking a sip from his bottle. »Could be a friend of yours. Someone from GU.«

»I... I still don’t get it.« She stared at him. »What makes you think I even _want_ to go?«

After she’d run out on him on the Perez-building, he’d been as much a grumpy asshole to her as he was to everyone else. Him coming to her loft, offering to take her to her funeral reception, didn’t feel like Jason being anything but considerate though. She couldn’t see any ulterior motives other than making her sad and it just wasn’t like him to actually seek her out to do something like that.

Nursing his bottle, Jason seemed to think for a moment before setting the beverage down next to hers and leaning his arms on his knees. »Closure. -- Wait, just listen,« he added quickly when Steph had already opened her mouth. »Don’t say it’s stupid just yet. Look, it’s not like there’s any scientific paper on grim reapers and their psyche and all, but... I’ve been around a bit already, right? Normal stages of grief still apply to us, you know.« His eyes had always been hard, but in that moment, Steph thought she’d seen something else in them. Something like a sore little boy who spoke from experience. »We all lost something. We lost our whole lives. Everything that was important, every relationship, even our identity.«

Blinking, Steph held her tears back. He was right and it hurt. She couldn’t just go back to how it had been a week ago, she didn’t even have a valid ID anymore.

»Let her go.« Jason’s voice was raspy, his hand warm and comforting on her knee. »Stephanie Brown is dead, now close this chapter of your life and let her go.«

Babs had been a classy lady, more than one pant-suit in her closet was nice enough for a reception, so Steph had no problems choosing what the wear.

The ride on Jason’s bike wasn’t that bad either, and he refrained from pointing her obvious lie out when she told him her jittering hands came from his terrible driving.

The reception hall wasn’t particularly full, Mrs. Keller arriving with them and even bringing a wonderful smelling casserole, but no sight of her mom. Most were people Steph knew from university, like Prof. Kingsley who was standing in a corner awkwardly, or her best friend Jenny who was talking to him with puffy eyes. There even were people she didn’t know or hadn’t seen in ages, so she guessed they were family. It was a sombre event, nothing Steph would’ve liked if she’d had a say in the planning.

Jason took her arm softly, turning her to face an elderly woman who looked like she had said something just now. Steph cringed internally when she recognized her aunt Fiona. She’d never been around other than to sit at their kitchen table and nag at them.

Jason shoved Steph, but still answered for her. »We were friends. Had the same class, you know.«

»It’s a miracle she was in class often enough to have friends.«

Jason raised an eyebrow. And that was why Steph had hated aunt Fiona.

»Excuse me? I think I missed a whole lotta more classes than her,« he laughed politely, his grip on Steph’s arm turning a bit tighter.

»Oh, please,« Fiona waved her hand at him. »With all those boys and stuff, I’m sure she was preggers again already. Don’t know how many kids that girl had, but I sure know she was more interested in learning about boys than learning about law.« The woman looked Jason up then, and Steph already knew where her next thought was going. She braced herself, gulping down the bile in her throat. »It was one.« Shaking Jason off and stepping closer to Fiona, Steph got into her aunt’s personal space. »And it was because of the studies I had to give it away.«

»She,« Jason interrupted her before she could let her anger get the best of her. The baby was a sore spot, one that she wouldn’t be over just by dying. »She did what she had to do. Who are you anyway to question her choices?«

Fiona looked put out, her spindly fingers raising to chide them. »You kids--«

»-- He’s right. You’ve been a terrible aunt and there’s no way I need to explain myself to you!« Steph cried. Tears were biting at her eyes, but she had cried enough for herself the last few days.

»Stephanie was a bad kid, and with friends like you, I see were that terrible influence came from.«

»Yeah right, grandma. You really know how to put the ‘fun’ in ‘funeral’,« Jason growled, ignoring the guests moving away from them. They were the centre of attention already and it wouldn’t be long until they’d get busted. He dug through his pockets, pulling out a match and lit it before flicking the burning stick into Fiona’s despicable purse. He threw an arm around Steph’s shoulder, moving her away from the woman. »Let’s fuck off. Those guys don’t know how to party.«

 

He didn’t drive her back to the loft, didn’t stop to say sorry until they were seated across from each other at Jason’s usual table at Round Robin.

»I’m sorry,« he said, after Delores had brought their order. »That was a fucked up idea.«

»I dunno.« Steph stirred her cocoa. »I think it was pretty cool actually.«

Jason gasped audibly, which made Steph smile a little more. She’d been vivid at the reception, close to tears, but on the ride to the diner, she’d had time to think, to realize that she hadn’t been angry at the world for dying any more. Not really. She’d been angry for the tiny little life she’d had to give away, angry for what Fiona had said about the baby Steph had mothered. Sure, it wasn’t easy losing her life, but she wasn’t alone. Damian and Jason were dead too, as were Tim and Dick and even Bruce. She wasn’t alone, wasn’t the only one without answers.

»Last time I’ve gone to a funeral reception, everyone was so stuck up, you know? No one actually showing their emotions and I’m pretty sure most wanted to leave sooner rather than later, although the food was to die for.«

Jason’s laugh was a little contagious. Just a little. »Good food? Must’ve been someone rich.«

»It was Tim’s actually.« Stirring her cocoa with a smile, Steph shook her head. »So yeah, rich parents, good food.«

»The kid’s been rich?« Jason tipped his coke back. »Huh, that explains why he won’t shake my hand without sanitizer.«

»Oh God!« Steph laughed loudly, before taking the spoon out of the cup and flinching when she pulled out a big fly that had drowned in the beverage. Jason and her shared a look over the spoon and laughed again. »Tim would be so disgusted, it’d be hilarious!«  
»Yeah, he’d be all ‘No, Jason, don’t lick that’!« he mimicked, staring at the spoon with curiosity.

Steph eyed her friend warily when he actually extended a hand to wrap around her wrist still holding the spoon. »Seriously, Jason. _Don’t lick that._ «

Jason grinned like a maniac but let her arm go. Being with him like that was easy, it felt good and natural, like it had felt with Tim all those years ago.

»He’s actually pretty cool, you know.«

»Who?«

»Tim.«

A faint tinge of red spread across Jason’s cheeks, his fingers turning the glass in front of him in tiny circles. »Nah. Don’t think so.« His jaw clicked shut and he fixed his eyes on the coke.

Steph raised an eyebrow, leaning on the table amused and interested. »You ok?«  
»I’m fine, dead girl. Lick your spoon or something.«

She smiled.

Jason had been right, she had needed closure, had needed to leave her old life behind. Though, maybe it hadn’t been a reception she had needed after all. The acceptance of her new family on the other hand, the chance at a new start, _that_ might have been something worth closing the chapter of the life she had to leave behind.

 

~~

 

_Everybody dies. I’m told that’s just the way it is. I’m told I’m not supposed to argue or question or even try to understand. I’m told a lot these days. Ever since I took a bullet by this stupid gun that was supposed to be unloaded I’m supposed to live a life on the sidelines like a good grim reaper._

 

_This is Bruce. He’s dead, too. Also, he’s the one that gets the list of who’s to die, when and where, which he passes on to the rest of us._

 

»Blown-up steak, Bruce! It’s a delicacy.«

»You’re just looking for an excuse to blow up shit.« Dick rolled his eyes. »And you,« he said, nudging the older man next to him. »Don’t encourage him. I know you get your kicks out of his stunts, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t stupid.«

The tick in the corner of his lips was obviously a smile, but Bruce kept silent. Tim on the other hand still grinned gleefully at the two other reapers across him, addressing his big brother. »You’re stupid.« _  
_

_Yeah, whatever._

_Anyway, my name is Stephanie Brown and I've been dead for seven days._  
Right, let’s be a bit more accurate. I'm actually undead.  
A modern-day grim reaper who takes the souls of people about to die.

_One would think killing myself a week ago would’ve put an end to Mrs. Brown’s girl, and while that may be true, while Mrs. Brown’s girl is in fact dead, Stephanie Brown is still kicking._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've really wanted to write this to establish this world and get a feeling for it, and I admit, it was quite fun to write - and I sure hope it was fun to read, too!  
> Feel free to comment and/or criticize <3


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